


good company

by ozonecologne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sunsets, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozonecologne/pseuds/ozonecologne
Summary: Dean reels. “Since when do you have email?” he demands. “What is it, hotwings@gmail.com?”Cas ignores him. “We’ve been invited to a wedding.”Canon!verse, post-12.02.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sconesandtextingandmurder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/gifts).



> [My tumblr mom](http://www.scones-and-texting-and-murder.tumblr.com) had a big important birthday this week! So she gets a big important fic in response! YAY!!! (I hope you had a fantastic day and I love you lots. Thank you for all that you do.)

Dean wanders back upstairs around 2pm, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag as he follows the sound of voices floating gently down the corridor. The Impala is in near tip-top shape again after their daring rescue mission - Dean’s ironed out all of the kinks and replaced the parts that he couldn’t salvage on his own. Now, _officially,_ every member of the Winchester family is safe and sound at home.

Sam’s yammering with Jody about a possible case on a Skype call that’s mostly dissolved into a playful battle of wits, Mom is doodling in the margins of a blank journal at the other end of the table...

And Castiel is right where he said he’d be when Dean went to bed last night: reclined in an arm chair, clicking away on his tablet.

Something that had been coiled tight and anxious in the pit of him unravels, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief. He saunters over and twists the rag around tight in his hands.

“Hey,” he says, totally casual. “Whatcha doin’?”

Castiel looks up at him and smiles a little. He’s got the same light in his eyes now that he had when he first found Dean alive at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m playing Claire in Words with Friends. She’s ahead by 53 points.”

Dean beams. “Atta girl. You been playing all day? Did you guys eat?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I helped Sam change his bandages this morning while you were in the garage.” Dean is about to ask, but Castiel beats him to it with, “Everything looks fine. He’s almost completely healed.”

Dean nods. “Thanks, man. I know you’re still kind of hurting, so I appreciate you using what little grace you’ve got to spare on Sam.”

With a shrug, Castiel readjusts his position in the chair. He winces when he twinges his neck right at the place where Ms. Watt knocked him with her brass knuckles. “Sam’s injuries were severe. I was happy to do it,” he dismisses.

Dean nods again. “Great. Well. No news is good news, right?”

He reaches forward to clap Cas on the shoulder and walk away, but Castiel tilts his head before he can get there. “Actually, there _was_ something in my email this morning.”

Dean reels. “Since when do you have email?” he demands. “What is it, hotwings@gmail.com?”

Cas ignores him. “We’ve been invited to a wedding.”

Dean blinks. Runs a mental tally. Do they even have enough living friends at this point to make up a full wedding party? “Um. Whose?”

He’s already half-leaning into Castiel’s space, so Cas merely turns his tablet around to show Dean the cream-and-lavender eVite he’s got open, complete with little animated butterflies.

_Bess and Garth Fitzgerald_

_cordially invite you to their vow renewal_

_in honor of 3 years of marriage_

_and the wedding they never had._

“It’s very short notice,” Castiel mumbles.

Dean’s face softens despite himself. “Oh, we’re going. Absolutely.”

Castiel turns to look at him, suspiciously examining Dean’s expression. His eyebrow ticks up. “That is not what I thought you’d say. But alright. I’ll RSVP.”

Dean twists around and braces himself on the back of Cas’s arm chair. “Hey, Sam! You want to go to Garth’s vow renewal? Ask Jody if she’s going.”

Sam lifts his head up and frowns. Guiltily and a bit dazed, he admits, “I totally forgot that Garth was married.”

Mary twists in her chair. “Who’s Garth?”

Dean turns back to Castiel, his mind made up. “Tell ‘em all four Winchesters are down to party. I’m gonna go make us some lunch.”

Castiel nods and accepts the pat on his shoulder with as much grace as he can muster.

 

Dean won’t admit it, but he’s really relieved that Cas hasn’t flown off anywhere yet. He likes having his family all together, despite the frankly worrying relationship developing between the angel and his mother. It makes him soft, and after his last brush with total annihilation, he’s starting to seriously consider fulfilling all those promises he made to himself so long ago about feeling things in new ways. Life is too short to pretend you don’t like chick flick moments. Life is too short not to tell the people you love that you really do love them.

So he pulls out a nice suit that he usually only wears on swanky undercover ops, combs his hair, and herds everybody into the newly-remodeled Impala on their way to Grantsburg, Wisconsin. He checks himself out in the mirrored surface of the Impala’s body and tries to see himself like Castiel sees him. He’s trying to take this seriously.

But Dean’s also still a little shit, so. He snickers and takes the the turns and the bumps in the back roads fast enough that Castiel’s pen skids around as he tries his absolute hardest to sign the _Congratulations!_ card against his thigh in the backseat. Dean receives a dirty glare in the rearview mirror for his efforts and it still makes him feel all gooey inside.

Sam wails along to the radio and taps his fingers against the door through the open window, hair flying in the wind. Seems like he too, after being forced to relive all his greatest hits, is trying to live life to the fullest while he can.

Dean sings - badly, off key - along with him.

They finally pull up to the clean little barn where the ceremony is being held, late autumn leaves sparkling in the sun. The property that the barn sits on is golden-turning-gray, long stalks of grass rolling like waves in the cool breeze. Here and there chairs and tables dot the field: taffeta table cloths sway lightly, and Mary coos at the centerpieces with her face pressed up against the glass even though ten minutes ago she was loudly complaining about how cramped her legs were behind Sam’s seat.

Up front, the brothers exchange a look and fondly roll their eyes. It’s amazing that they get to share this at all, and they both know it. They’re so incredibly grateful for a chance to make fun of their mom together, even though they’ve got a lot of gaps to fill yet.

Dean guides the Impala into a corner spot at the far end of the long gravel driveway. The four of them get out of the car almost simultaneously, stretching and groaning a little and smoothing out the wrinkles in their clothes. Sam points to cheerful, hand-painted sign that reads, “Friends and family to the back!” with a cheesy grin.

Dean keeps his head down as he follows, trying not to get gravel dust from the parking lot on his nice shoes.  A few errant leaves crunch under foot. He just happens to look up when he feels a warm body nudge into place beside him.

With an annoyed _tsk_ , Dean reaches over to pat down Castiel’s wayward hair.

“Thought we taught you better than this, come on,” he grumbles, but there’s no real heat in the words.

Cas shoots him a grateful smile in return, and they walk the rest of the way to the barn with their shoulders brushing. Dean, for once, doesn’t put distance between them. His fearful self control when it comes to this is a rubber band that he’s stretched too thin, and it’s not elastic enough anymore to snap back into place.

And anyway, he’s not sure he wants it to.

“Should be a really nice day,” Sam comments, something light and airy in his tone.

 _Yeah,_ Dean mentally agrees. The breeze rustles his neatly combed hair. _This is going to be really nice._

They step through the barn doors to the soft sound of band music, a blast of warm air from the space heaters. Curtains and twinkle lights line the dusty wooden walls and the rafters in the tall ceiling, and some photos of the family have been hung up along the walls. A projector is running at one end on loop of a slideshow. It’s so sweet and normal - not extravagant, but homegrown and steady and familiar, just like the union it’s meant to commemorate. The buffet in the center of the floor smells _awesome_ , and Dean doesn’t have a single regret.

Somewhere to Dean’s left, a plate shatters with a gasp.

Record scratch.

“Harold, get the kids,” some lady hisses.

Dean accidentally makes eye contact with a guest at another table, and her face goes white with fear. An old man beside her freezes with his fork in midair halfway to his mouth - the piece of meat precariously scooped up on it slides onto his lap with a quiet _plop_.

Dean frowns and waves. The woman faints.

Does he have something on his face or what?

He hears a series of low warning growls, and that’s when he pales too.

“Oh, crap,” he mutters.

_How did we forget that Garth married a werewolf? Literally all of his in-laws… are werewolves._

Sam seems to realize their mistake at the same time that Dean does, freezing up and twitching a little. With zero chill, Mary reaches into her coat pocket to put a hand on her gun. Castel takes a protective step in front of Dean and puts a hand between Sam’s shoulder blades just in case.

“There they are!”

All four Winchesters whip their heads around to find a rosy-cheeked Garth Fitzgerald grinning and heading straight for them, totally oblivious to the tension in the room. He’s gangly and ridiculous and dressed in a pinstripe vest.

He gets to Dean first. “Comin’ in hot, D-man!”

He squeezes Dean around the middle so hard he thinks he might have punctured a lung. His feet lift a little bit off the ground.

“Garth!” he wheezes. “Too tight. Wolf strength.”

“Oh! Whoopsie daisy,” Garth giggles, setting Dean back on his feet. “That’s my bad.”

He clasps his shoulder and looks him over from a safe distance while Dean catches his breath. “You look good!” he proclaims, nothing but joy in his eyes. “I’m so glad y’all came.”

Dean smiles a little awkwardly. Not many people tell them that, and he isn’t used to hearing it. He can’t even revel in the sentiment because he can feel every evil eye in the room fixed on them. “Glad to be here,” he says anyway, because he’s sure that’s what he would be feeling if he weren’t so jittery, itching to yank out the silver knife strapped to his ankle.

Garth embraces Sam next and then Cas, and falls all over himself fawning over Mary when he finds out who she is. He compliments her so earnestly and sweetly that he puts her own sons to shame.

“Come on, come on, we’ve got a special table for you guys, right with the rest of the family!” Garth declares. He leans up to wrap his arms around both Dean and Sam’s shoulders and gently guides them away from the scandalized relatives seated by the door, which Dean is extraordinarily glad for. He chatters on about a mile a minute about all the stuff they’ve missed, how sorry he is for not keeping in contact but _man_ is it busy rebuilding a wolf pack and raising kids - oh, right, he’s got kids now - and you guys won’t believe how well his new monster-friendly dental practice is doing all the way up here in Wisconsin...

As soon as they’re seated, Dean bows his head towards Castiel’s. “What the fucking fuck.”

Castiel just sighs at him, put out by idiot humans. “This is why I didn’t think you’d accept the invitation,” he explains.

Dean’s sweating through his nice suit, damn it. He hasn’t been around this many monsters that hate him since Purgatory. “Just don’t let me drink so much that I start busting out the silver, alright? I don’t want to start any interspecies fistfights. God forbid somebody Hulk out in the middle of the ‘I Do’s.’”

Castiel presses his lips together to stifle a laugh, but he does promise to watch over him.

Dean purses his lips and nods, glancing around. “This is pretty nice,” he says.

Castiel sits with his hands folded in his lap, but he wiggles a little in his chair. “Yes, I agree.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “You sure you dressed warm enough for this thing?” he asks. “Service is outside, you know.”

Castiel rolls his eyes skyward. “I _am_ still an angel. The cold doesn’t faze me.”

 _After being possessed by Lucifer, I bet a little breeze is nothing,_ Dean can’t help but think. He holds in a wince. “Ok, alright,” Dean replies, holding up his hands.

The awkward small talk they feel compelled to make with the other residents of their table while they wait for the ceremony to begin isn’t actually so bad. What’s left of the Myers family remembers Dean pretty fondly, and Jim makes an effort to talk about his car with him; Mary jumps in eventually so Dean can nervously gulp down some water. At some point he gets up to load up a plate with food and an old lady at the table behind him keeps glaring Dean down while he eats.

It does the job, though. Nobody wants to talk to him when his mouth is full. Sam kicks him under the table with his freakishly long legs if Dean so much as tries.

“So, Sam,” an older gentleman that identifies himself as Garth’s great uncle asks across the table. “What did you say you do for work again?”

Watching Sam struggle for an answer while sitting next to Bess’s werewolf father is fucking priceless.

Somewhere in the room, a fork clinks musically against a glass. Everyone present is instructed to file out to the altar in the field and find a seat for the renewal ceremony, and the tone in the room shifts like a switch has been flipped. Amazingly, any animosity that might have existed before this moment melts entirely. Dean looks around to see people smiling to themselves, at others, embracing one another. He puts down his fork. He all of a sudden feels very blessed to be here.

Castiel’s voice rumbles in his ears, and he shivers. “Shall we?”

A man of few words, Dean stands with a nod. He even pushes his chair in. He winks at his mom when he catches her eye over the top of Castiel’s head.

The altar is a crude tie of pale birch branches decorated with purple ribbons, plain and simple and heartfelt. Reverend Jim takes his place beneath it dressed in a cozy sweater and a pair of pressed charcoal slacks. Garth cries when Bess skips down the aisle to meet him, holding the hand of a tiny girl with blonde curls and chubby legs. He immediately sweeps her into his arms and kisses Bess on the mouth when they reach him, to the reverend’s gentle scolding.

Dean finds himself smiling the whole way through it, and squeezes Mary’s shoulder beside him when she sighs a little brokenly. That iconic music swells and it’s strange to feel his heart sinking and growing all at the same time. He can’t even begin to imagine what his mother sees when she watches something like this, knowing what became of her husband and her home and the promises she meant to keep.

He doesn’t mean to look at Cas. He fully intended on giving the Fitzgeralds his complete attention. But as Garth chokes through his newly-penned vows -

Castiel’s eyes go shiny.

Sam is full on sniffling, so Dean knew to come prepared for this. He pulls out a tissue from his inner breast pocket and taps the delicate skin of Castiel’s wrist with it.

Cas takes it and dabs under his eyes, squaring his shoulders with a tiny sniff, even though the tears don’t fall. Dean’s so busy watching his profile and the way his bottom lip quivers just ever so slightly that he completely misses the vows.

Too often are they witnesses to tragedy. The eyes in this family have seen so much death, enough suffering and pain to fill several lifetimes. Finding the motivation to soldier on and to keep fighting seems impossible on the worst days. But this, this here, this joining of two souls is a burst of light in the dark that makes enduring the pain of those bad days worth it. It serves as a reminder to all who are present - between the heartbroken and the monstrous - that goodness can triumph in this world, and happiness can last regardless of where we come from or who we find it with.

So very, very carefully, Dean takes Castiel’s hand. As Bess’s cousin recites a bible verse about love being patient and kind, as Garth’s best man reads a letter to the couple about how special their union is, Castiel squeezes back.

And Dean’s eyes, too, get a little misty.

 

The reception is joyous and filled with chatter. By now enough people have grown accustomed to the Winchesters’ presence that the general air of panic seems to have died out. Dean - flanked by Castiel, who let go of his hand as soon as people started standing - files onto a patio with all the little taffeta tables, where a host of servers are handing out glasses of wine.

“Thank god,” Dean mutters, reaching for a glass of red. Sam laughs at him.

He searches the crowd for the happy couple, but they’ve gathered quite the following already so they collectively decide to hang back and let them have their moment.

This, of course, gives them no choice but to mingle with the other guests.

“So… bride or groom?” Dean asks the young lady standing to his left. She blinks up at him and he tries to make himself look nonthreatening. He has a feeling that he isn’t doing a very good job.

“Um. Bride. Bess was my roommate at school,” she tells him.

Dean nods. “Oh, nice. Bet you have a lot of wild stories to tell,” he jokes.

The girl laughs nervously and a broad guy comes over to rest a hand on her lower back. “Hi, I’m Jack,” he says, reaching over to shake Dean’s hand. “Rita’s boyfriend. And you are?”

Now Dean can appreciate a guy with a good handshake. He gives him a smile. “Dean Winchester,” he says. He isn’t sure where the rest of his family went to, but it looks like he’s on his own with these people. “Friend of the groom.”

Jack’s eyes go big and he smiles. “Right, the hunter, yeah?”

“Jack,” Rita hisses, digging her nails into his arm.

Dean just chuckles. “Not today. Just here to feel the love.”

“Well in that case, the more the merrier!” Jack says. Rita relaxes a little, drawn into the conversation by her boyfriend’s casual friendliness and the quiet, unassuming tone that Dean has taken on.

They reminisce about the Garth and Bess they’ve known for some time, swirling their wine, when two trays are suddenly shoved under Dean’s nose. One has spring rolls and a little cup of soy sauce, and the other has - oh, god, that’s blood, isn’t it.

“Human or lycanthrope?” the server asks with a frightfully cheery grin.

Dean swallows and tries not to look nauseated. “Human,” he manages.

She moves the tray of spring rolls closer to him, so he takes one. He blinks down at it for a minute.

“Thanks.”

Jack and Rita each take a morsel from the other tray, delicately pulling viscera from the little toothpick with the edges of their teeth. Dean gags into his wine only to find that his glass is mostly empty. Jack says through a mouthful: “You know, I gotta say. It’s really nice that they take all the guests’ dietary restrictions into account when they cater these things.”

“It’s a whole business,” Rita tells him. “I went to a vampire bar mitzvah last year that served actual Bloody Marys.”

Dean laughs a little hysterically and scarfs down the rest of his spring roll as fast as his jaw will let him. He practically swallows the thing whole so that he won’t be expected to have a response to that.

There is a gentle touch to the small of his back, and he turns around to see Castiel with his jacket unbuttoned and two drinks in his free hand.

“I got you something a little stronger than the wine,” he offers.

Dean groans and leans into his side, happily taking one of the glasses. Their fingers brush; Castiel’s are freezing from the ice. “Thank you,” Dean nearly moans, knocking a gulp back without further ado. He turns back to Jack and Rita. “Hey, guys, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Jack and Rita, Bess’s college roommate.”

Castiel nods at them with a smile. “Nice to meet you. You both must be very proud.”

Jack’s face has closed off, that usually expressive mouth settling into a flat, taut line. Rita looks equally uncomfortable.

“Well,” Jack drawls. “I think I’d like to give my congratulations to the happy couple. Rita?”

“Yeah,” she says, almost in a scoff.

Jack flashes a sarcastic smile. “Nice chatting with you,” he dismisses. And then they walk away, tucked close against one another.

Dean blinks after them. “What the hell was…”

Castiel’s hand is still resting on Dean’s back - he can feel the heat from the touch bleeding through his jacket. It’s an exact mirror of the position that Jack and Rita had taken across from them, and they were actually -

Dean sputters. “Dude. I think they’re more offended about us being gay than being hunters.”

Castiel doesn’t even flinch, but Dean blushes a deep, dark red all the way up to his ears when he realizes what he’s just said.

“I, um. Hm. Yeah. Have you seen Sam?” Dean recovers.

Castiel shakes his head. “I believe he went into the bathroom to compose himself,” he replies.

Dean snorts and takes another sip of his drink. “What a baby. Come on. Those spring rolls were actually pretty good.”

“I recommend the heart morsels,” Cas teases. “They’re very tender.”

“You’re disgusting,” Dean laughs.

 

They take a few obligatory goofy pictures with Garth and Bess, and one selfie with a teenage girl on her phone because, quote, “My friends will never believe me when I tell them I partied with Dean Winchester.”

(Sam immediately follows her on Instagram.)

Dean’s favorite picture by far is the group shot, where he and Sam are given toy daggers to attack the wedding party. It helped lighten the mood a little, and Garth laughed so hard that wine came out his nose.

The first dance happens back in the barn, under a beautiful twinkling chandelier.

Bess looks absolutely stunning in her short chiffon and satin dress, and even after three years together Garth’s only got eyes for her. He hands her off to Reverend Jim for their dance and even then they seem reluctant to part from one another.

Mary taps him on the shoulder once other people start flooding the floor around them.

“Come on,” she commands.

Dean smiles, gets up, and goes.

She’s sort of small in his grip, and he makes the effort not to hold too tightly. She put perfume in her hair and every time she moves, Dean can smell it. It’s not quite how he remembers, but that doesn’t change the amount of love for her swelling in his heart. He’s learned by now, even with what little time they’ve had together, not to expect too much from her and not to be disappointed by what he doesn’t find. They’re both happier that way.

“You look beautiful,” he says, because he can’t remember if he’s told her yet or not.

She grins at him and squeezes his hand. “Thanks. Sam curled my hair.”

“‘Course he did. He’s a pro at it by now,” Dean teases.

Mary laughs, loud and sweet, and Dean holds her just a little bit closer as they sway to the music.

“You’re not too bad at this,” she compliments, tapping Dean’s toe with her own. “Where’d you learn?”

Dean shrugs. “Oh, you know. Middle school gymnasiums, in the kitchen with a mop…”

She shakes her head, laughing a little. Her cheeks are pink from the wine and the cold. “I would have given anything to see that,” she sighs. The smile on her face fades a little, and her eyes go melancholy with that far-off look.

Dean bends to catch her eye. “Hey,” he says.

She looks up and blinks, brings the smile back. “I still got plenty more to learn. You can be there for that,” he promises.

Mary’s smile doesn’t look so fake anymore. She squeezes his shoulder where she’s holding onto him.

“Looks like Castiel’s found a dance partner too,” Mary says, nodding past Dean’s shoulder.

Dean’s heart drops into his stomach and he reflexively turns to look. He didn’t really have a reason to be nervous: Castiel is swaying lightly with Bess’s little girl on his hip, getting his hair played with while her mother hovers nearby.

The sight is just too precious for words. It almost reminds him of the time in Rexford, when Castiel insisted on checking on baby Tanya before they left Nora’s house, but that memory still has a bitter tinge to it. He tries to give himself over to the warmth of this one instead.

“Ha. Yeah. Real ladies man, that one.”

Mary hums. “Better keep him on a tight leash,” she says, winking at him.

“Nah,” Dean says, flushing. He ducks his head. He’s about to tell his mom that it’s not like that for them, that they aren’t what she and everybody else here thinks they are, but he just ends up saying, “He knows where home is. He always comes back.”

Thing is, he doesn’t doubt the truth of his own words even for a second. By the soft, proud look in her eyes, Mary doesn't either.

Someone taps him on the shoulder, and Dean has to look up when he turns around.

“Mind if I cut in?” Sam asks.

Dean rolls his eyes and makes a fuss about it, but he turns over his mother’s hand to him without a fight. He wanders back to the table and watches them for a long minute; he hasn’t seen Sam this bubbly, giggly, or excited about another human being since the last time they met a celebrity. And even though the selfish evil little part of Dean is jealous that he no longer gets this all to himself, he’s really truly glad that there is someone else in the world looking out for his little brother.

Garth and Bess pass out little cupcakes from hand-woven baskets while the servers bring out coffee. Dean kisses Bess on the cheek and gets handed a dark chocolate cake that is so rich and thick that he nearly passes out. Sam opts for a vanilla that he really only took to be polite, and Mary gets vanilla too. Castiel gets nothing, but picks up a fork anyway and steals bites from Dean’s plate when he can’t stand to eat much more sugar.

“Hey, jerk. You got chocolate on your nose,” Sam snorts.

Dean brings a hand up to wipe at it. “I do not. Shut up.”

To Dean’s horror, Castiel leans forward and wipes his thumb along the bridge of his nose. To make matters worse, he sucks said thumb into his mouth without a word while Sam makes a horrified face in the seat next to him.

“I got it,” Castiel says.

Dean’s heart’s racing too fast. Everyone in this room can probably hear it, what with the super senses and all.

“Mhm. Thanks,” he squeaks.

Mary mutters, “Gracious,” into her coffee. Jim blinks at him across the table. Dean hears someone mutter, _I told you, now pay up_ at the next table over.

Dean slides the plate with his cupcake on it towards Cas. “You want the rest of this?” he asks.

“Ok,” Cas replies, and starts scooping up the frosting with his fork.

Dean slings his arm around the back of Castiel’s chair, close enough that his cuff brushes the edge of Castiel’s ear. Let people stare, let them bet. At least someone has some faith in them. It’s the little extra push Dean needs to man the hell up.

The band eventually picks up its pace, taking requests, and that’s when everyone just about goes their separate ways. Sam gets caught up talking to a few of the eligible ladies in the room - he’s an extremely popular target - Mary recognizes a hunter friend of her father’s from when she was still alive, Dean lurks by the open bar chatting with the grisled bachelors and reluctant boyfriends, and Castiel… is being taught the cha-cha slide by an extremely vivacious group of college kids that work for Garth.

Dean watches him fondly and shakes his head. Pretty soon he’ll be wrapping his tie around his head and fist pumping to Party Rock Anthem.

He slips some kid trying to charm his way into the alcohol stash ten bucks to request a Beatles song and loosens his tie a little. It’s getting late in the night by now, getting colder, and he’s racking up the drinks so he should probably slow down if he wants to drive everyone home tonight. He taps his knuckles on the bar, shoves his hands in his pockets, and looks around for a restroom.

He’s fiddling with a chocolate stain on the front of his shirt that no one bothered to tell him about when a skinny guy with glasses takes the sink next to him. He stares at Dean in the mirror, and Dean tries not to get annoyed but the guy’s been staring for kind of a long time so he barks out a, “What? Yes, Dean Winchester, did I kill someone you know?”

The guy’s mouth drops open and he shakes his head real fast. “No, I uh. I was just wondering if you wanted to borrow a Tide pen for that,” he said, pointing to Dean’s shirt.

Dean glances down at the chocolate stain, then back up at the nerdy dude. “Huh?”

The guy takes a steadying breath. “My partner is a - they got bit by - there’s a lot of blood stains in our house now so I always come prepared,” he blurts, reaching into his pants pocket and thrusting a little red pen in Dean’s direction. “I don’t know.”

Dean hesitantly takes the pen from him and rubs at the stain, pleased when some of it actually lifts. “Hey, thanks, man. Sorry I snapped at you.”

The guy waves his hand and all but runs out of the bathroom. “No worries. I get it. Tension at weddings. Bye.”

Dean shakes his head at his reflection and spends the next several few seconds feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. He wipes his hands and heads back into the barn.

The crowd on the dancefloor is dwindling, but not too noticeably yet. Castiel is sitting at the table all by himself, texting.

Dean takes his time walking up to him. Castiel doesn’t seem to hear him coming, or if he does his attention is too focused on his phone. _Who cares where happiness comes from who cares where happiness comes from just go be happy,_ he thinks to himself.

He coughs and holds out a hand when he gets to the table. “Come on.”

Castiel looks up and blinks. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“To the dancefloor, let’s go. Don’t make me change my mind,” Dean grumps. He wiggles his outstretched fingers a little and hopes to high heaven that his palms aren’t too sweaty.

Castiel smiles and takes his hand, and Dean drags him into the thick of it, where people are moving and grooving around each other in circles. Dean was kind of hoping to get some sneaky camera footage of Castiel white-dad-dancing, but it turns out that he’s actually not too bad on his feet. A few girls that have had too much to drink spin Cas around while Dean watches. He thinks he sees Sam’s head peeking over the top of the floor, but he’s not entirely sure. He’s loose enough from the whiskey and good vibes that he’s actually able to let go, dancing pretty badly with a very sweaty, very drunk Garth. They’re belting ‘Hooked on a Feeling.’

Suddenly, the music slows, and he’s still standing next to Cas. He’d shed his suit jacket some time ago, and his shirt sleeves have been rolled up so Dean can’t stop staring at his tan forearms.

“Dean?” he asks.

Dean steps up, grabs one of his hands, and tugs him closer.

“Can you dance?” Dean asks him, softly.

Castiel’s eyes are a little wide and he stumbles - actually _stumbles_ \- into Dean. “Um. Theoretically? Yes. Yes, I can dance.”

“I’ll let you lead then,” Dean says, which earns him a laugh.

The band singer’s voice is smooth and just the right side of husky. It lulls Dean into an eyelid-drooping kind of contentment, and even in a room full of werewolves Dean feels safe.

(But maybe that’s just because of whose hand he’s holding.)

Castiel is staring at him like he’s searching for something in his face, so Dean just smiles at him. Their chests are touching; they’re closer than they’ve been in a long time. “Hi,” he murmurs.

Castiel’s expression clears, and his eyes brighten a little. “Hi,” he replies, squeezing Dean’s hand.

He steps on Cas’s toes a few times, and Cas steps on his, but it doesn’t matter. Staring into each other’s eyes feels like a different time and place. He’s glad he had the courage to ask Cas out here. He’s glad Cas came and said yes and holds him like he’s so sure of himself.

“Hey,” Dean repeats. “Thanks for coming to this.”

Castiel nods a little, and doesn’t break eye contact. “Of course,” he replies. There really is no place he’d rather be, Dean realizes. He really wants to be here.

“No, I mean. For staying, too,” he adds. He takes a breath. “For helping out and being here... with me.”

The tips of their noses brush together. When had they gotten this close? Castiel’s hand slips beneath the thin, damp fabric of Dean’s shirt to palm at his hip. “Thank you, thank you,” Castiel is repeating, but Dean doesn’t know what he’s thanking him for - maybe for the same thing. Maybe for coming back. Maybe he isn’t talking to Dean at all.

All he knows is that the wet sound of Castiel’s voice makes him drag his lips across his cheek and tuck his head to the curve of his neck, nosing along the flushed warm skin. He wraps his arms around Castiel’s back like another hug, and Castiel does the same around his waist. They’re barely even dancing anymore, just swaying with their arms locked around each other.

He kisses Castiel’s neck, breathes him in deep and closes his eyes. Castiel leans his head against Dean’s and sighs, shoulders sagging. His hands tighten infinitesimally in Dean’s shirt.

“Dean.”

He brushes his lips against the bolt of Castiel’s jaw before he pulls back enough to look into his eyes again. Cas is still staring at him like a miracle.

He hesitantly brings a hand up to cradle Dean’s face and sweeps his thumb along his cheek. Dean turns into the touch as the song winds down, and they finally give up the charade of actually dancing.

“Wanna sit outside for a while and watch the sun go down?” Dean asks him, rough and quiet. Castiel nods.

They walk off the dance floor pressed back to front. Dean grabs Castiel’s jacket off the back of his chair and heads out the front doors of the barn, off to the side towards the fence posts lining the property.

The coarse grass slips underneath his pant leg and scratches at his skin. It tickles a little, so Dean walks faster. He also gets to watch Cas walk towards him if he rushes like this. When Castiel finally braces himself against the fence next to him, he graciously allows Dean to help him back into his jacket.

“Thank you,” he says one more time.

Dean tenderly touches the back of his neck. He mumbles, “No problem” and fights the urge to cough or wave off the gesture. His face is starting to match the colors of the tea-toned sky.

He crosses his arms and squints a little against the light. Castiel’s weight on the fence is a comforting presence beside him.

Dean smiles to himself and shakes his head.

“What?” Castiel asks.

Dean shrugs. “Nothing. Just thinking about how no monster is ever going to take you seriously again, Mr. _Cha Cha Real Smooth_.”

Castiel scoffs.

“No, seriously. You even did the whole ‘hands on your knees’ thing. What werewolf is going to be afraid of you after _that_?” Dean teases.

Castiel tilts his head up, and grazes his nose along the line of Dean’s jaw. Dean freezes, going hot all over. “I like being underestimated.”

“Oh,” Dean chokes.

Castiel smiles - Dean can feel his stubble dragging across his own as his lips curl up - and pulls back. He looks ahead out into the sunset while Dean tries to calm himself down.

“Can you believe this was almost all wiped away?” Castiel asks him quietly. “All of it, just gone.”

Dean kicks at the grass. “Yeah, I can. We try to live our lives like it really will be, you know?”

Castiel turns to look at him; the setting sun lights up his edges like a halo. “You willingly sacrificed yourself to save this. These people,” he says.

Dean shrugs. “Was there any other choice to make?”

“I wanted to be there with you,” Castiel says. He reaches out to finger the lapel of Dean’s jacket. “Desperately. Dean, if the world really was going to end, I wanted to spend my last moments with you.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate, he steps right into Castiel’s hold and ducks his head. He kisses his mouth and it tastes like whisky and chocolate, like home and sunsets, and Cas kisses back. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to do.

When they’ve pulled back to look at each other, when they’ve smiled and laughed and huddled close in the blaze of late evening together, Dean tilts his head and remembers.

_When's the last time you watched a sunset without waiting for something to go bump in the night?_

There is still unfinished business for them. Lucifer is still on the run, the Brits are still out for blood, and Death is still dead. But, for now, Dean’s content to sit back, watch the sun go down knowing it will come back up tomorrow, and celebrate life happening all around him.

He’s got good company. And he isn't waiting for it all to go up in flames.

He'll try to enjoy what he has while he has it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://www.ozonecologne.tumblr.com) Send me prompts.


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